Friends Don't Let Enemies Drive Drunk
by sinnerforhire
Summary: SVImprov challenge fic. Whitney gets drunk at a party and Clark intervenes.


Title: Friends Don't Let Enemies Drive Drunk

Author: AmandaLynn125

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: none

Improv: Jesus, beer, humid, ocean

Spoilers: "Jitters"

Archive: anywhere, just let me know

Disclaimer: I don't own _Smallville_ or any of the characters (although I wouldn't mind owning Tom Welling…mmmmmm…)

Summary: When a party gets out of hand, Clark must make a tough decision.

"Can you believe this?" Chloe shouted over the booming bass of DMX's "Up in Here."

"This place is crazy!" Pete screamed in reply. "This is even better than Clark's party!" Someone bumped into him, and he looked over to see a beautiful blonde girl with eyes as blue as the ocean. 

"Sorry," the girl stammered shyly.

"Oh, no problem," said Pete suavely. "No problem at all."

"What?" she yelled.

"Why don't we go somewhere a little quieter and talk?" he answered loudly, smiling. She grinned in response and the two of them headed outside to the pool area. Chloe sighed and looked around for Clark.

Clark was sitting on a couch, as usual mooning over Lana. He was watching her dance suggestively with Whitney, watching her beautiful hips swaying and her gorgeous raven hair bouncing on her shoulders. She was laughing and looked like she was having the time of her life. Clark looked away, dejected. He wanted Lana to be happy, of course, but _he_ wanted to be the one making her happy. He startled as Chloe flopped down beside him.

"Bet the view's much more enjoyable without that tiny telescope eyepiece," Chloe said flippantly. 

Clark glared at her. "Yeah, it is," he replied sarcastically, even though sarcasm was Chloe's forte, not his.

Chloe smiled halfheartedly. "Clark, someday the _right_ girl will be in front of you, grinding her hips, and you'll be too busy memorizing every detail of Lana Lang to notice." She got up and headed to the kitchen for a soda.

Clark couldn't take his eyes off Lana. She was so graceful; her slender body moving in perfect rhythm with the pounding music. She was a vision, as beautiful as the _Mona Lisa_ and just as elusive. 

Clark's heart jumped when he saw Whitney pull away from her and head to the kitchen. This was his chance! He nervously got up from the couch and headed towards Lana.

"Hey, Clark!" she greeted him.

"Hey, Lana," he replied. _Way to go, Romeo_. "Say, you think I could maybe have the next dance?"

Lana smiled her adorable smile. "Sure. Whitney won't be back for a while. He's helping the guys tap the keg."

The song ended and, miracle of miracles, Shaggy's "Angel" began to play. _Thank you Jesus!_ he exclaimed internally. He reached out and put his hands on Lana's bare, shimmering shoulders. His fingers brushed her soft, silky hair and his legs threatened to give out. He couldn't believe how lucky he was--slow dancing with Lana Lang! He couldn't imagine a more perfect moment.

Of course, they were interrupted by Whitney. He grabbed Lana's elbow, pulling her away from Clark. "Hey, Kent, keep your hands off my girlfriend!" he shouted angrily. He pulled her towards the kitchen. "Come on, we're gonna play Beirut."

Clark sank back down on the couch and sighed. Of course Whitney would have to show up. He seemed to have radar when it came to Clark and Lana being the vicinity of one another. Clark had never had the intention of "stealing" Lana from Whitney. He just hoped that someday Lana would come around on her own. But Whitney was determined to keep Lana away from every other guy on the planet. Why he didn't trust her was anyone's guess, for she'd never been anything but faithful to him. 

Chloe returned. "It's getting wild out there," she told Clark. "They're playing some stupid drinking game."

"Drinking game?"

Chloe shook her head. "Is that farm of yours on another planet? You've never heard of drinking games?"

"It's not like I'm at parties like these all the time," Clark retorted.

"They're playing beer pong," she replied. "Guys take ping-pong balls the size of their brains and bounce them into cups of beer."

Clark decided he had to see this for himself. He walked into the kitchen. Plastic cups of beer were lined up in rows on the big dining room table, and Whitney and another jock were taking turns bouncing the ball. The rest of the jocks were standing around, drinking beer and laughing raucously. Whitney caught Clark's eye and shot him a withering glare. Clark backed out of the room.

"You know, I think I'm gonna get out of here before things get out of hand," said Chloe. "I'd take Pete with me, but he must be enjoying his latest conquest. You coming?"

"I think I'll stick around a little longer," Clark replied, distracted. His eyes kept wandering over to the kitchen and to the beer in Whitney's hand.

"Clark, don't do anything stupid. Messing with sober jocks is bad enough, but when they're drunk…just watch it, okay? I'd like to see my best friend in one piece tomorrow." Clark understood how Chloe felt, but he knew he had nothing to worry about. He just wished he could let _her_ know that.

Clark went back into the kitchen. Whitney was draining a beer, and Clark didn't even want to know how many he'd had. He surveyed the room, and was absolutely shocked to see Lana with a beer in her hand. "Lana, what are you doing?"

"Clark, it's…" She didn't get to finish.

"Clark, how many times do I have to tell you to back off!" He shoved Clark through the door onto the patio. 

"Whitney, no!" Lana rushed out and grabbed his arm. "Leave him alone! He didn't do anything!" 

Whitney pulled back. "Come on, Lana, we're leaving." He took her hand and led her around to the driveway.

Clark super-speeded to Whitney's truck. "Whitney, I'm not letting you drive like this."

"Like what?"

"Drunk."

"I am not drunk, Kent, so mind your own damn business!" He reached for the door handle, but Clark knocked his hand away. 

"Kent!"

"Whitney, I don't care if you put your own life in danger, but I'm not letting you put Lana's life or anyone else's on the line because you're too drunk to think straight, let alone drive straight!"

Whitney turned to Clark, and his thick, humid, alcoholic breath made Clark flinch. "Kent, for the last time, get the hell out of my way." 

"No." 

"That's it." Whitney grabbed Clark by the collar and forced him down to the ground.

"Whitney!" Lana shrieked. "Stop it!"

Clark got up and stood in front of Lana, shielding her. "Whitney, you're not taking her anywhere."

"The hell I'm not!" He reared back to punch Clark in the face, but Clark blocked his hand before Whitney could even start to throw the punch. Whitney reeled back, confused. 

"Whitney, I'm sorry," he whispered, and he tapped Whitney on the head, knocking him out. He grabbed him and laid him gently on the ground.

"Clark! What happened?" Lana asked, rushing over to them.

"He passed out," Clark lied. "He should be fine once he sleeps it off."

"Clark, I'm really sorry about what happened. I hate it when he gets like this," she admitted, embarrassed. 

"It's okay, I understand," replied Clark gently. "Look, why don't you let me take you home."

She looked down at Whitney. "I can't leave him here like this."

"It's a lot safer to leave him here," Clark pointed out. "I'm sure stuff like this happens all the time. Just help me get him inside." 

Clark knelt down on the ground and shook Whitney's shoulder roughly. "Whitney, wake up!" he commanded. He slapped him lightly across the face. "Whitney!"

Whitney's eyes fluttered open. "What happened?" he asked, his voice think and slurred.

Clark grabbed his arm and pulled him up, artfully dodging the question. "Come on, you're gonna go in and sleep it off." He put his arm around Whitney and helped him inside, dumping him ungracefully on a couch. He turned to Lana, who was gazing down at Whitney with a concerned, motherly eye. "Lana, he's better off here than on the road. Come on, let me take you home."

Lana sighed. "Okay. Let's go home." 


End file.
